If You're Not The One
by falln-angl
Summary: //If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?//


**Title: **If You're Not The One (1/1)  
**Rating: **PG  
**Summary: **_//If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?//_  
**Type of fic:** Vignette  
**Disclaimer: **All recognisable characters and places are not mine. They belong to Marvel and/or Marvel Studios, WB, Film Roman (I think), and whoever else claims rights to them.  
**Distribution: **FF.net and Random Thoughts. All else, please just ask.  
**Author's note:** Not really reliant on any particular episode or season. Just know that all the kids have graduated from high school, and that Scott and Jean are a [*gag*] couple.

***

_If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?_  
_If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?_  
_If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call?_  
_If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all?_  
  
_If I'm not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?_  
- "If You're Not The One" // Daniel Bedingfield

**If You're Not The One**

He saw her in the far corner of the conservatory, as far away from the entrance as possible, as if in hiding.

'Rogue?'

The young woman turned her head away, her hands in the motion of wiping away tears, so very obvious to him even as she tried to screen it from his view.

He frowned, taking a closer step towards her cowering form. 'Rogue? What's wrong?'

'Go away, Scott,' she muttered, her voice gruff and raspy. She had been crying.

Although unsure of the cause of her unhappiness, he felt his heart ache at the sight and sound of her pain. He moved closer still, his hand reaching out and coming to rest on her shoulders. She stiffened beneath his touch, but instead of letting go he squeezed, as if attempting to squeeze the comfort into her.

'Rogue-'

'Go away!' she interrupted brusquely. 'Just leave me alone.'

The urge to do as she asked came. And quickly disappeared. 'No.'

She finally turned to him, a look of surprise on her tear-streaked face. Then, a flash of anger. 'Ah'm not one of your pet projects, Scott! Ah-'

'You're my friend, Rogue,' he broke in quietly. It troubled him still that she had yet to fully understand her place within the X-Men. Her importance to him.

A flash of an unrecognisable emotion passed through her features, but she turned away once more before he had a chance to scrutinise and identify it. She kept silent.

He wanted to break the stillness, pregnant with unasked questions yet unexpected comfort. But he, too, pressed his lips together and said nothing. He didn't want to leave, and not because she was in distress, rather because it was _her_ and he _wanted_ to be with her. All he wished for was to be in her company.

Without breaking contact, he moved so that he sat beside her and faced the east wall of the garden as she face the west. He sat close to her, close and not touching, but close enough to sense – to almost feel – her along his side. His hand dropped from her shoulder to his lap.

He placed one atop the other, realised how prim and proper he might look if someone happened to walk in, and separated them. One hand covering one knee. But it still seemed too…appropriate. He didn't want appropriate, or correct, or suitable. He wanted to be flawed, imperfect, inconsistent. He wanted to not be "Fearless Leader", nor "Older Brother". Not "The One Whom Everyone Can Rely On".

All he wanted, in that moment, was to be the one who could breach the impenetrable fortress she unfailingly built around herself. Whatever form it may take. Fearless Leader, Older Brother, Mr Reliable – all of them have been firmly rebuffed. Even "Good Friend" sometimes felt the sting of dismissal.

'It's nothing Ah can't handle.' She had spoken in a whisper, her tone sounding defeated.

'Rogue, I would never imply that you were in any way weak or delicate. You're stronger you sometimes realise. I know you don't need -'

'Ah do need, Scott,' she interrupted without raising her voice. 'Ah _need_, but Ah can't have.'

He wondered if she was referring to the physical, or maybe to something less tangible. He wondered if she was referring to the one who had somehow managed to capture her elusive heart, and he frowned deeply at the thought.

'Rogue-'

She shook her head, ending him in mid-sentence. 'Thank you, Scott,' she said, turning to offer him a sad smile. 'Ah know Ah don't say it often, but Ah do appreciate you bein' mah friend.'

Yet, her words failed to warm him in a way that he knew it should. She was acknowledging that a relationship closer than mere acquaintances or team mates existed between them, but it didn't seem enough. Instead it left him wanting. Friendship was no longer sufficient.

She stood, and he followed suit. 'It's late, and Ah got training early in the morning. Ah should get some sleep.'

His eyes never left her as she walked around the marble bench, joining him on the other side.

'Good night, Scott.'

'Good night, Rogue,' he said.

She seemed to be hesitating, and in that moment he was reminded of the lost girl from Mississippi, alone and vulnerable. His heart clenched at the sight, and before she had a chance to turn away from him, he moved to wrap his arms tightly around her.

Instead of growing rigid as he had expected she leaned into him, almost melting against him. He felt her arms lightly encircle his waist.

Then she pulled away. 'Good night,' she murmured once more, looking up at him. She smiled, and it was real and untainted with sorrow.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

**end.**


End file.
